Internet Culture - Tumblr Posts
The emotions get lost in the net, jumbled in the code, and then projected out on the screens distorted like the reflection in a fun house mirror until I can't tell what feelings are my own anymore.
"Put on the new flesh, like borrowed gloves, and burn your fingers once again." -Richard K Morgan
"Do I love you, or do I just want to love you so bad I can't tell the difference?" -James S.A. Corey. The Expanse Book 1.
Secure your soul.
I scream at the screen, try and will a piece of my anger and rage into the silicon. I ask the net how it can connect me with everyone in the world, and yet I feel so alone. I demand to know how it can show me all the world's atrocities, knowing I can't fix them all.
I pound my fist on the keyboard and demand to know why I feel this way. Who's fault it is, but the black void of the blank screen offers no answers, no remorse. Just a reflection of my own face.
When they ask how I died. tell them: Still Angry.
-Quellcrist Falconer
From Altered Carbon by Richard K. Morgan.
If I'd known the last time I saw you would be the last, I would have thought of something more meaningful to say.
TW: Fake blood, Fake wound
3D printed tourniquets created by the people of Gaza, this is true cyberpunk. Using the net and technology to fight oppression and help your community.
I should note, this is not a perfect solution, 3D printed TQs will have a higher failure rate than commercial medical grade ones. The people of Gaza need life-saving aid and proper medical supplies.
Here are several charities you can donate to help facilitate that.
https://www.map.org.uk/donate/donation-details/484
https://www.pcrf.net/
https://help.unicef.org/donate-monthly-for-children-gaza-2023?gad_source=1&gclid=Cj0KCQjw0MexBhD3ARIsAEI3WHIITq6yMc5ndzOKhXK8cRTIDcY_tZC5Q1g0VIAJrrZCa8eROCjg-uEaAhOUEALw_wcB
Also Karl and the folks at inrangetv are excellent content creators if you're interested in looking at firearms ownership and general self-defense from a leftist perspective.
I'll do anything
The longer I went on, the less I remembered. As I traded parts of myself for processing power, meat and memory for time. I lost parts of my past everyday consumed by the compulsion to keep going.
I still remember us, though. I remember them. I remember the lake, the sun. I remember the way the light made their eyes pop and the way they laughed. I remember their touch and the way their hand felt in mine. But I can't remember their name. I can't remember their face or why it ended. I can't even remember if it was real, but it's all I have left.
I'm a husk, a collection of electrical impulses in a shell of meat. I cling to the thought of them because I loved them. I still love them, but also because it's the last time I remember being myself, being alive.